


Untitled

by safety_dancer



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce + Tim fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

Bruce couldn't remember the last time he had visited his kids in their own apartments. Or if he ever even had. Usually, he would simply wait until they decided to come to the Manor, which, though it was pretty often, most days it was just Alfred and himself.

And yeah, he felt rather bad about the fact that he so rarely took the time to check on his adopted offspring. This guilt multiplied when he saw the obvious surprise on Tim's face as he opened the door at Bruce's knock. His third son blinked, stepping away from the doorway, allowing Bruce to enter.

"Something up?" he asked hesitantly, unconsciously toying with the hem of his oversized sweater. Bruce shook his head, offering a small smile.

"Just thought I'd... see how you're doing." he felt a little awkward standing there while Tim stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Oh. Well. Thanks." Tim's surprised expression melted into a tiny smile, but Bruce could still see the pleasure in it, and felt immediate relief. "Want something to drink?"

"You don't have to-" Tim waved him off before he finished. His socked feet were silent against the hardwood flooring as he walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge. "I got Zesti, water, Zesti, and oh look- more Zesti." he grinned over the fridge door at Bruce who rolled his eyes.

"Water, thank you." he took a seat on the (incredibly comfortable) couch, leaning back against the cushions and took the moment to look around. The apartment was so very Tim. Photography hung tastefully on off-white walls. Sloppily arranged bookshelves of dark oak matching the well-used coffee table in the center of the room. Legal pads filled with Tim's cramped writing were scattered over that table along with forgotten, empty mugs, and a laptop drained of battery.

"How's Alfred?" Tim asked as he reentered the living room, passing Bruce a glass of cold water before sitting cross-legged on the other end of the couch, one hand wrapped around a can of soda, the other popping open the bag of cheesepuffs in his lap. He offered some to Bruce, who shook his head with slight disgust. Tim rolled his eyes.

"Alfred's fine."

Awkward silence, except for Tim's loud munching. Bruce cocked a brow at him, to which Tim returned with a impassive stare.

"So," Tim finally said, drawing it out. "I wasn't planning on working any more today. I finished gathering intel on that case from Tuesday." He jerked his head towards the papers and notes on the table, and Bruce nodded.

"Good work. And I'm glad you're free today, as I brought something for you." he smiled when Tim seemed to light up, leaning forward slightly with a curious look.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm." Bruce pulled something from the inside pocket of his coat, tossing it over. Tim caught it, quickly glancing down before a huge smile slid to his face.

"The whole first season of Star Trek," he whispered in awe. He stared at the dvd case a moment longer, then after setting aside his snacks, scooted across the couch and pressed into Bruce's side happily. "Thanks, B."

"No problem, kiddo." Bruce reached up, brushing his hand over Tim's dark, soft locks, curling his other arm around his son's shoulders. "Marathon night?"

"Oh yes!" Tim stood quickly, putting in the dvd, grabbing the remote, then returning to sit beside Bruce, leaning his head against his shoulder with a contented sigh. Bruce kicked his feet up on the table (he felt like he was taking advantage over the fact that Alfred wasn't there to reprimand him for that offense), once again moving his arm around Tim, tucking him in close.

¤

Barely an hour later saw Tim passed out, having slid further and further down until he was slumped with his head on Bruce's legs. He was drooling slightly, but Bruce honestly didn't mind. He was more amused, running his fingers gently up and down his child's spine soothingly, reveling in the quiet peace around them.

Leaning over slightly, he carefully extracted the remote from Tim's limp fingers, turning off the show. Ever so slowly, he slid one arm under Tim's knees, and the other behind his shoulders, and stood, cradling Tim against him. Looking down at the sleeping boy's face, he felt a sudden, immense fondness for him, heavy in his chest. He tiptoed into Tim's bedroom, gently laying his son down before tucking the thick, soft comforter around him.

"Love you, kiddo," he whispered, brushing his fingers feather-light over Tim's sleep warmed cheek. It was always hard to say those words aloud to his children, something Bruce knew and yet still had trouble with. But this time, the words slipped out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted fluff so I wrote myself fluff


End file.
